


The Touch Of Winter's Rebirth

by rosied



Series: The Touch Of Winter's Rebirth [1]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Other, alien!Stig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosied/pseuds/rosied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's the connection between Black Stig and White Stig?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Touch Of Winter's Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place in Season 3, immediately after the end Episode 1 and before Episode 2. This Youtube link, if it works, is of the clip that inspired this story and sequels (two and counting): 
> 
> http://youtu.be/VOQPkwE1JZ8
> 
> Title is from the poem “Winter's Rebirth” by Ronald Dean Cunningham.

The white Jaguar accelerated down the runway of the aircraft carrier with the Stig at the wheel. Faster and faster it went till it reached the end, but instead of slowing down, it tore up the ramp and launched itself into the air as if trying to follow the flight of the Harriers. It seemed to hover in mid-air for a moment, then plunged down into the sea.

The scene was repeated from another angle.

As the Jaguar hit the water for a second time, Andy got up and hit the pause button. “I think we've seen enough of that.” He turned to face the people in the room. “Obviously we've called this production meeting because of what happened out on the Invincible. As some of you know, Navy divers went down almost immediately to try and find the Stig. Unfortunately, there was no trace of him apart from his gauntlet. Not surprising, I suppose, since the ocean there is four miles deep.” He sighed. “Needless to say, we are going to miss Stiggy tremendously, personally as well as professionally. For a being who didn't talk, he was always able to communicate his love for cars and his enthusiasm for his job. He was a pleasure to work with and we're very lucky he came to us.”

“He was an amazing driver,” Richard said. “He always went flat out in whatever he was driving, and he almost seemed to be communicating with the cars.”

“But he was careful, too,” put in James. “He would always make sure the safety checks were done properly before he went out. And he was as fascinated by the tiniest details of the engines as he was with the handling of the cars.”

One of the cameramen spoke up. “He always hit his mark, every time. He was ready and willing to do as many takes as we needed to get every shot we could possibly want. He was a cameraman's dream.”

Everyone looked at Jeremy, who had been uncharacteristically silent. His attention was fixed on the screen; Andy had paused the tape at the moment when the Jag had hit the sea. A great fountain of water had sprung up, and there seemed to be a small waterspout spinning off to one side.

“Jez,” Andy prompted gently, “do you want to say anything?”

“He didn't even TRY to stop.” Jeremy sounded bereft. He was holding the black glove that was all that was left of the Stig, stroking it absent-mindedly. “Why would he do that?”

Sympathetic looks were directed his way, and James spoke up tentatively. “Didn't you say he'd been feeling tired and sad lately? Maybe all the driving was getting too much for him?”

“Yes, but I didn't think it was this bad. Why didn't he let us know? We could have helped him. How could he leave us like this? How could he leave m...” He broke off, covering his lips with his fist.

The door opened suddenly and a blast of cold air and snow came in, along with a man wearing a suit that was totally inappropriate for the weather and carrying a briefcase.

“Dreadful conditions outside,” he said. “I thought I was never going to get here. I see you started without me, though.” This fact obviously did not meet with his approval.

“You must be the chap from headquarters, then,” said Andy in a less-than-welcoming tone of voice. “I got the message that you were coming, but when you didn't show up on time I thought you'd probably decided to cancel, or ended up stuck in a snowdrift somewhere.”

“Pity he didn't,” muttered Richard.

James kicked him under the table. “Be polite,” he chided. He eyed the Suit speculatively and added “...for now.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Andy enquired.

“As I'm sure you must realise, the current inconvenient situation must be alleviated, and I'm here to make some suggestions as to how this can be done.”

Jeremy's attention was suddenly focused on the man. “And which 'inconvenient situation' would that be?” he asked grimly.

“The death of that driver of yours, of course. It needs to be handled very carefully. According to the demographics, Top Gear is viewed as a light-hearted entertainment program. There's the question of how to treat the footage from the incident when it's shown during the live taping. I would suggest making a joke out of it, so the viewers aren't upset, which could lead to a drop in ratings or letters of complaint.”

Jeremy took a deep breath, but Andy jumped in hastily before he could speak. “I really don't think we need to worry about that happening. Our viewers have always been very positive about the Stig. Yes, they'll be sorry to hear about his death, as are we, but they won't stop watching; in fact, I think they'll be more upset if we do try to make light of it.”

“The demographics say differently, and we have to go by those.”

“So letters from, say, actual viewers aren't as reliable as your demographics?” asked Richard.

“Exactly. So that means we do need to be careful in how we present the incident. We also need to consider how to proceed in the future. I would suggest getting actual racing drivers to wear the driver's outfit and do the track tests.”

“Over my dead body,” snapped Jeremy.

“No-one wears the suit now the Stig's gone,' said Andy firmly. “They can do the driving as themselves – in fact I think they'd prefer it for the bragging rights – plenty of them have actually asked to appear on the show. We could even make a competition of it like we do with the Star In a Reasonably Priced Car.”

There were murmurs of approval from James, Richard and the crew, and even Jeremy looked interested. “I could interview them, too...”

“I'll leave the final decision up to you, but please bear in mind Headquarters' concerns. At any rate, whichever option you choose, at least his anonymity means he's easily replaceable.”

“You utter bastard! How dare you!” Jeremy lunged at the Suit, but was restrained by Andy and James before he could make contact. Richard and several of the crew members looked as if they wanted to join in.

Andy rolled his eyes. “I think now would be an excellent time to take a break. Back in 20 minutes, please, people.”

The crew members made for the door hastily. The Suit rose from his chair and moved as far away from Jeremy as he could.

Andy turned his full attention back to Jeremy, who was struggling to break free, with James trying to talk him down.

“C'mon, Jez, don't do anything you'll regret!”

“I won't regret it!”

Andy got in front of Jeremy and shook him slightly. “Jezza, LISTEN to me!”

Jeremy stopped his struggling and looked at Andy.

“I know how you feel, and believe me, I wish I could just turn a blind eye to it. I'm sure everyone else does, too.”

James nodded, and Richard, who was watching, chimed in. “He's right, Jez!”

“But if you do thump him there'll be repercussions. You might get fired or even worse, the show might get canceled. You know Stiggy wouldn't want that.”

“...You're right,” Jeremy agreed reluctantly. “Let me get some fresh air and try to clear my brain.” He turned towards the door, then paused. “But so help me, if he says anything else about Stiggy...”

“I'll have a word,” promised Andy.

As Jeremy left, James followed him to the door.

“Will you be okay?” he asked. “Would you like to talk, maybe come down to the pub? I mean, I know I'm pretty useless at this sort of thing, but...”

“I'll be fine, just let me be alone for a while. And keep that fuckwit away from me.”

“That's being sorted,” said James, jerking his head behind him. Andy and Richard had backed the Suit into a corner and were talking to him, very loudly in Richard's case. The man was looking absolutely terrified.

Jeremy smiled slightly. “You chaps – I know I take the piss out of you a bit... well, a lot... but you're the best friends anyone could have. Thanks, Slow. I'm just going to have a ciggy and get my thoughts together, then I'll be back.”

“Good man,” said James, squeezing Jeremy's shoulder, then headed over to the corner where the Suit was trapped.

Jeremy looked outside and saw that the snow was no longer falling, and the sun was shining intermittently between gaps in the clouds. He wandered out onto the snow-covered track, remembering the times he'd watched Stig driving furiously round it, how Stig would wave to him before and after the lap, how he'd teased Stig about his appalling taste in music while being totally sure Stig's choices were made to tease him....

He closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of grief swept over him. _Oh, Stiggy..._

He opened his eyes again just as the sun came out from behind a cloud once more, causing the snow to sparkle like diamonds. At the same time, a light breeze blew and a small flurry of snow rose up a little way from Jeremy, attracting his attention. As he watched, the flurry condensed into a column which spun down into a figure that looked just like the Stig, standing in the arms-folded pose.

Jeremy blinked, doubting what he was seeing for a moment. The suit was the same apart from being white; the pose was the same. Could this possibly be HIS Stig, come back to him like a winter phoenix? He smiled, holding out a hand.

“Welcome.... back?”

White Stig came to him and took his hand. Feelings of joy and love, somehow both familiar and different, renewed, danced in Jeremy's mind, sparkling like the snow. Jeremy laughed out loud and pulled Stig into an embrace.

 

 


End file.
